


Half of the Whole

by missingparentheses



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Childhood, First Meeting, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 22:53:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11323392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingparentheses/pseuds/missingparentheses
Summary: Rhett embarks on a new adventure: his first day of school in Buies Creek, NC.





	Half of the Whole

**Author's Note:**

> My interpretation of this destiny-sealing canon event. :)  
> Inspired by this quote: _“We are who we are because we met when we were six years old.”_ — Rhett, Ear Biscuit 100  
> And especially [this gifset](http://mythical-shippings.tumblr.com/post/139294813363/specifically-may-14th-2009).  
> Thanks again to my girl [Rennie-Mae](http://loudspeakr.tumblr.com) for reading this over for me! And additional thanks to my sweet friend [Heather](http://ladycynthiana.tumblr.com) for helping me track down some references and continuity elements.

Mama bought them new shoes to make up for it. Rhett’s are bright white on the sides with splashes of red and green and yellow up the front and wrapping around the high-top that covers his bony ankles. Cole’s are the same style but in blue and black. They don’t get new things often, so Rhett knows she feels bad. It helps a little. He liked their old house, his old school. Now it’s a million miles away.

Rhett kicks at a pebble, then he looks up from his feet to where she stands beside him. There’s a sheen of tears in her eyes that makes him feel a confusing mixture of concern and smugness, though both are erased when she smiles at him and he realizes the tears are not guilt; they’re pride. Cole’s chattering on about something where he stands at her other side. It’s his first day at Buies Creek Elementary too, but Rhett’s never had a full day of school before. He went to kindergarten for half-days in California, but this seems different somehow. This feels like being a big kid. He can see his mom feels it too.

The school bus comes into view far down the street. Mama fusses over Cole for a minute, straightening his collar and making sure he has everything he needs before dropping a kiss to the top of his head. After that she reaches for Rhett’s face, planting a kiss on each cheek, then she straightens and smoothes his hair.

“You’re gettin’ so big, sweetheart. You excited?”

Rhett shrugs and looks past her to the school bus growing bigger as it approaches. “I won’t know anybody.”

“You’ll make friends. You’re so good at that. You had lots of friends back in California, didn’t you?”

He shrugs again. “Guess so.” The bus squeals and wheezes as it slows, letting out a final groan when it stops at the foot of the driveway. The folding glass door accordions in as the driver cranks the handle inside. Cole waves goodbye to their mother and trots up the stairs, brimming with confidence. The driver looks down and offers a reassuring smile to the tall six-year-old still hovering by his mama’s side. He nods in greeting to Rhett’s mother, and she smiles back, tears returning. She reaches out to pat Rhett on the back, coaxing him on.

“Have a fun first day, honey! Be good. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Rhett smiles before gripping the backpack straps on his shoulders and making his way to the steep stairs leading onto the bus. He rounds the corner past the driver and looks down a sea of deep green seats parted by the narrow walkway. Besides his brother, who’s claimed a seat near the back, only two heads can be seen floating in the sea. Rhett stops, confused.

“Y’all’re one of my first stops. ‘Fraid it’ll be a longer ride for you than most of the kids, son. Find a seat.”

He slides into a seat near the middle of the bus and peers out the window at his mother. She wipes a tear and waves, and Rhett waves back, offering a confident smile to comfort her. The bus pulls away, and she slips from view.

 

When they’d moved to Buies Creek, his dad had driven him and Cole by their new school. It hadn’t seemed like a long drive to get there, but now, after a few minutes of watching the landscape roll by, Rhett feels sure they’ve driven for way too long. Other kids climb onto the bus, most of them older than him, some sneering down, confident in their time-earned superiority over the fresh-faced first grader. Rhett’s big now; he doesn’t have to take that. His mama had driven him to kindergarten last year, but now he’s old enough to ride the bus. He meets the eyes of the kids that look down at him, not backing down before they look away first. He doesn’t have to be afraid of them.

Rhett wishes his brother would have sat with him, but he knows Cole doesn’t want to be seen sitting with a first grader on the first day of school. He has an impression to make on the other kids, so Rhett’s left to fend for himself. It’s just as well. He’s used to feeling alone.

It isn’t that he’s unhappy. He loves his family, and they’re good to him. He’d had friends at his old school, but nothing had ever really felt...right? Important? He isn’t sure what word to use to explain it. But something’s missing.

 

The thought had first taken root the previous spring at his kindergarten graduation. He’d felt it for as long as he could remember, but it was something about that day that allowed the slippery thought to materialize in his six-year-old brain, and he’d taken hold of it as he looked out at his smiling family in the crowd.

He’d been wearing a tight-collared shirt that his mama had buttoned so high it choked him, and his pants were too short on him, like always. His teacher had been talking to the parents, telling them how wonderful the children had been to teach, how she envisioned great things for them in the years ahead, and that slippery thought wiggled into view. Rhett had smiled, closed his eyes, and grasped it.

He was meant for big things. He had a destiny.

But as quickly as the thought took root, he felt the hollowness inside. It wasn’t something he knew how to explain, but somehow the expectation of greatness brought a loneliness with it. It weighed on him like a heavy blanket, and he felt his shoulders sag and his mouth go dry. Rhett opened his eyes again and searched for his mother, and she smiled, tears in her eyes just like when she’d sent him off on the bus this morning. He was used to finding comfort in her face, and it startled him when he couldn’t find it there.

Rhett closed his eyes again and searched the thought. Now that he’d grasped it, it opened up just a crack and showed a glimpse of itself to him. It was a moment in time, a series of moments perhaps, something indefinable but profound. He could see them far off like the wisps of dreams escaping as you open your eyes, and as he chased after them he felt the presence beside him, the other half.

 _Half_.

That was it. It was a destiny. And it was half. Rhett was half of a destiny.

 

The school bus is full and loud by the time it pulls up to the school. There’s a girl beside him in the seat, but she’s older and angled out toward the aisle where she talks with her friends, hands waving and voice spiking with her first-day excitement, and she never pays Rhett a glance. She pushes out into the aisle when the kids file out, but no one lets Rhett out of his seat until Cole comes by, pausing to hold the line back until Rhett can slip ahead of him. Rhett smiles at his big brother, but when they reach the curb he’s momentarily overwhelmed by the task ahead. They visited his classroom at orientation, but Rhett can’t remember where it was. He’s just beginning to panic when his brother rescues him again, hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Rhett, I’ll help you find your class.”

Grateful tears surface in his eyes, and he breathes in deep and blinks them away as he follows his brother through the throngs of kids.

The hallways are bright, painted in sunny yellow and white, and Rhett stops at the drinking fountain while Cole stands impatiently at the doorway of the first grade classroom.

“Here. I gotta get to class. If you need me I’m not far, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Cole.”

Cole shoves at Rhett’s shoulder good-naturedly, then hurries off down the hallway toward the higher grades. With another deep breath to steel himself, Rhett slips into the room.

 

Rhett had met Ms. Locklear, his teacher, at orientation. She was pretty and sweet and gentle, though he hadn’t appreciated the impact of these qualities as fully when his mother had been safely beside him. Now he’s alone, and Ms. Locklear is a safety net. He sees her crouching down as she talks to another little boy, smiling and nodding before she points to a desk along the edge of the room. Without a thought, he lines up behind the other boy, and the moment it’s his turn to step forward, she already knows him by name.

“Well, hello, Rhett!” she says, and he beams, the feeling warm and large in his chest. “Welcome back!”

“Thank you.” Rhett blushes and shuffles his feet.

“I’ve got a seat all ready for you. You see that empty desk there beside the dark-haired little boy?”

Rhett sees and nods.

“You’ll find your name on it. The seats are in alphabetical order. Go on and settle in.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His mama had taught him to say _yes, ma’am_ and _no, ma’am_. She said it was polite here in the South, though nobody had said it in California. At least not that he’d noticed. He has a hard time imagining people here are much different besides the way they sound when they talk, but Ms. Locklear seems pleased to hear it, and he smiles at her before moving to the center of the room and finding the desk marked “Rhett McLaughlin”.

The boy in the desk beside his is peering beneath the lid, organizing his school supplies into neat rows. Rhett drops his backpack to the space beside his chair, lifts the lid of his own desk, and begins to pull items out of his bag. Paper and pencils, crayons, scissors and glue. He shoves his lunchbox into the remaining space, then he glances around the room. Kids have hung their backpacks on coat hooks along the wall, so he stands to do the same. When that’s completed, he returns to his desk and waits for class to begin.

 

By eleven o’clock, Rhett’s hungry and bored. They got to get up and move around when they went to gym class earlier, but Rhett hadn’t anticipated how much time would be spent sitting and being quiet. It’s torture. Kindergarten was _not_ like this. They only had to sit in chairs when they were doing art projects.

He finished his worksheet a while ago, and Ms. Locklear is across the room, peeking over the shoulder of a cute blond girl. Rhett picks up his pencil and begins to trace the edges of the name tag she’d taped to his desk, widening the line before drawing shapes descending from the tape’s edge. He feels eyes on him and glances up nervously at his teacher, but she’s even further away now, crouching down to help another little girl, this one with tight black braids. He’s almost turned back to his designs when he realizes the eyes watching him are those of the dark-haired boy in the desk beside his. His eyebrows are high in alarm—they both know writing on desks is not allowed. For a moment Rhett’s afraid he’s going to tattle, but then the boy giggles.

Something sparks in Rhett’s chest.

He chases the sound, watching the boy’s blue eyes as he lowers his pencil to the desktop again. The other boy is fixed on Rhett’s movements, and when Rhett hesitates, the boy lifts his own pencil and draws a smiley face with the word _Hi_ next to it. Then he glances up to see Ms. Locklear, still occupied in another corner of the room. He covers his mouth and giggles again, and Rhett feels the spark once more.

It feels familiar somehow, a crack of light showing the sunrise through the blinds. It sounds like a recurring dream he could never quite place but knew he’d visited before. It slips through his fingers again, but Rhett chases on. If the sound of that boy’s laugh feels like it belongs in the air around Rhett’s ears, then he’ll never stop doing whatever it takes to keep hearing it.

With a mischievous grin, he drags a short, thin graphite line down the desktop, peering repeatedly at the boy beside him to watch his reaction as the word takes form. In small letters he’s written _‘HELL’_ , and the other boy’s hand claps back over his mouth, his eyes wide at the scandal. Rhett covers his own mouth, holding in his own laughter at the audacity he’s shown, and he has to bite back his reaction when the boy writes his reply: _‘DAM’._

Both boys are so lost in giggles that they don’t see Ms. Locklear until she’s standing over them, hands on her hips.

“Mr. McLaughlin? Mr. Neal? What do y’all think you’re doin’?”

Rhett feels his heart plummet into his stomach. In trouble on his first day of real school. He’ll get a whuppin’ for sure. He peers over at the other boy who looks similarly contrite, then they look back at their teacher. She speaks to the class but keeps her eyes on the two of them.

“Alright, everybody. It’s time for lunch. Line up at the door, please.”

Rhett reaches into his desk for his lunchbox, but he can feel her gaze still on them, so he doesn’t stand to join the class, not yet. When the seats around theirs have emptied, she addresses them both in a quieter voice.

“You boys may join your class for lunch, but after you eat you’ll be comin’ back here and spendin’ your recess with me. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” the other boy is quick to answer, and Rhett gathers his wits to echo the same. Their eyes are downcast as they fall to the end of the line with their lunches in hand.

 

When they reach the cafeteria, the dark-haired boy squeezes into a space between two of their classmates on the far end of the table. Rhett glances around the noisy room to find his brother, and eventually he spots him, laughing and already comfortable with a couple boys from his class. Rhett lifts his hand to wave, but Cole doesn’t see him.

Turning, he finds space left at the end of the table where his classmates are already digging into their peanut butter and jelly or bologna sandwiches. He can see the dark-haired boy from here, but he’s fixated on his lunch, his face still as contrite as it was the moment they got caught. Rhett looks up and sees Ms. Locklear chatting near the hot lunch line with another teacher. He wants to dislike her for punishing him, but even at his young age he knows better. His mama taught him better than that. He doesn’t really know what came over him.

Rhett barely remembers eating his lunch; he figures he must have inhaled it while his mind wandered. He glances up to check the other boy’s progress, but he’s already gone, and Rhett locates him standing beside their teacher. He glances Rhett’s way, and Rhett swallows, closes his lunchbox, and crosses the cafeteria to the boy’s side.

“Ready, gentlemen?” Ms. Locklear asks, and they nod. She turns and marches back toward their classroom, and they follow with Rhett bringing in the rear. He feels a pang of guilt at the slump of the other’s boy’s shoulders, knowing he instigated their crime. He hopes the boy won’t be in as much trouble with his own parents as Rhett knows he will be with his.

When they’ve slid back into their seats, Ms. Locklear hands them each a fat, pink eraser and tilts her chin toward the profanity on their desktops. Without a word they rub away the evidence of their misdeed, blowing and brushing off the pink-grey residue left behind. When they’ve finished, Ms. Locklear hands them each a sheet of paper.

“I know it’s no fun missin' recess on your first day. Why don’t you color me some pictures, hmm?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the boys answer. They take the coloring pages from her hands and pull crayons from their desks. Rhett looks at his picture for the first time — a unicorn, front hooves pawing at the air. He crinkles his nose and looks across the aisle at the picture on the other boy’s desk. He sighs in jealousy at the picture of Paul Bunyan and Babe the Blue Ox, and he’s about to ask if the boy wants to trade, but then the boy is coloring, meticulous and careful as he fills in the giant’s red-and-black flannel shirt.

Rhett resigns himself to the girly picture, but he chooses the least girly color he can come up with — black seems fitting — and begins to scribble wildly at the mythical beast.

After a moment, he feels eyes on him again. The blue-eyed boy is agape at Rhett’s haphazard coloring.

“What?”

The boy swallows and looks back to his picture. “Nothin’.”

Rhett puts his crayon down. “Hey, I’m, uh… I’m sorry I got you in trouble.”

The boy’s eyebrows crinkle inward, and he shrugs. “S’not your fault.”

“I’m Rhett.” He says it so abruptly he feels immediately self-conscious. But the boy smiles and extends his hand like a grown-up.

“I’m Link.”

Rhett takes his hand, and for just a moment the future cracks wide open. It happens so fast he can’t get a look at any details, but he feels them, every moment flashing through his soul, leaving only impressions in their wake. He feels the impact of a lifetime cross from one hand to the next and back again, and while he sees nothing but the blue eyes and laughing grin of the boy beside him, he can feel the rush of wholeness in Link’s small hand wrapped around his.

Rhett swallows it down, banking it for later, for when it needs to be said. For now, he reluctantly releases the boy’s hand and wipes his own sweaty palm against his thigh.

“Pleased to meet you, Link.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Come say hello on Tumblr!](http://missingparentheses.tumblr.com)  
>  Thank you kudos-ing, commenting, and subscribing! (You know what time it is!)


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